


Through a Glass Darkly

by belle_reve



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementors (Harry Potter) - Freeform, F/M, Horror, Romance, Young Dumbledore, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belle_reve/pseuds/belle_reve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much about dementors is unknown, and what little information the world has is only assumed- not confirmed. See inside the mind of a unique dementor, its life, its perspective as it begins to slowly recover its former life: from the Dumbledore family, to the rise of Lord Voldemort, and Harry Potter's coming-of-age...what more will be revealed from a creature without a soul?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through a Glass Darkly

 

I can remember when my sentience broke through.

 

I guess it says a lot about me since most of The Others don't, or at least claim they don't.

Maybe they just " _are_ " and have always known it.

But _I_ know there was a time none of Us were sentient, and then somehow- it changed.

 

My first thought- I remember it, even without Steam:  
_My skin's gone away._

A nonsense thought.

 **Never _had_ skin**, the Lich says.

But what does the Lich really know? It's just the (rare) whispers of The Others; our "minds" are all neatly woven together like tapestry or a buzzing hornets' nest.

  
The first time I took Steam- I think it was from a forty-seven year old man (locked away for serial murders, the Lich said)- I could almost recall a feeling, a tingling feeling full of resting energy and electricity.

Soft.

I reached out and ran my fingers down the man's arm and then I knew like a bolt of lightning-

_Skin! I was remembering skin!_

 

But the thought was nearly lost as the Lich screeched in reproach.

**NEVER TOUCH. NEVER TOUCH. NEVER TOUCH.**

  
The rattling, maddening pain from all of The Others' shrieking- I nearly faded away completely.

Mentor anchored me and I managed to pass back to Azkaban, away from whatever nothing-ness where I had almost been lost.

That was also when I first felt emotion since my sentience had returned.

_  
Terror._

 

The Lich hardly ever use words. The Others rarely talk at all except for Steam locations and orders from the Wizards. The Others' voices were gossamer soft, but when combined as the Lich- the voice was- it was unspeakably...

The word escapes me again.

A concept I used to _know!_ But now somehow it was lost except for a shadow of an echo.

 

The serial murderer lost his arm. The Wizards had had to amputate because my touch- before my very sight- had trailed rotting black along his skin.

  
Mentor had told me, "Sahir are fragile. Take only the Steam you need, only the Steam you are ordered to take- and _never_ touch."

(That was the most Mentor ever said to me. I don't know why  he called the Wizards "sahir", and Mentor never _told_ me why.)   

 

But ever since that first day in Azkaban when I felt skin, I _knew_ I had had skin too- somewhere, somehow.

Steam brought me closer to the images, (the memories?), the words trapped like a caged bird in the back of my mind.

Fluttering, fluttering, fluttering when something was familiar.

  
_Steam is acquired taste,_ Mentor once said.

 

I liked it at once.

  
_Strange thing, strange thing,_ The Others mutter.

  
**TRANSITION, TRANSITION, TRANSITION,** the Lich used to press.

 

It's been long since I've heard from the Lich. Or even The Others.

 

I don't think I'm part of their tapestry anymore. Maybe I'm on the fringes.

 

But back to Steam.

I liked Steam the first time I took it, breathed it in from the serial killer.

  
_Steam caused no pain?_ Mentor seemed surprised.

I didn't answer- I was still recovering from the Lich's screech, the whirling high of my first breath of Steam, and the revelation:

 _I used to have skin!_  

 

  
My hands.

I would often look down at them, especially after feeling the Prisoner's skin.

 

My hands: long, skinny, knobby, skeletal, blackish-blue.

I'd try to imagine my hands like the Wizards'- short, pinkish, wrinkled- covered in skin.

  
_Bad thoughts, bad thoughts-_ dangerous _thoughts,_ The Others would warn.

  
  
I didn't care.

I'd seek out more Steam- to learn, to remember- which brought me into the Wizards' favor.

They worked me constantly and I was nearly eager- no- _hungry_ ,  _thirsted_ for the work.

  
It's hard to measure time as an Other.

Sometimes days are endless.

Then sometimes I'd pass a Wizard and overhear that decades have already passed.

 

"How long has that one been here?" I heard once- the Wizard was tall, large, bald, and he pointed directly at me.

"Mate, I've worked this station fer fifty plus ye'rs-," I recognized this Wizard, he was small and skinny with strange markings on his face, "- _That_ dementor was here even when _I_ started."

  
(Fifty years? Fifty years had passed? How had I not noticed the short Wizard slowly aging? Now he was hunched, balding with liver spots.)

  
"How do you tell them apart? The dementors, I mean."  
  
  
"Ye  _don't_ ," the smaller Wizard laughed. "But dat one- it's an anomaly fer sure. Its fingers are more lightly colored than any dementor I've ever seen. Noticed it my second ye'r here. And it ne'er brings ice- just cold. Ain't ne'er seen a dementor who di'nna freeze up the place when it comes in--."

  
I cocked my head in interest, and it was then that the two Wizards noticed me.

They froze.

The large Wizard trembled from cold, his eyes large. I could smell his fear.

He left without a word.

 

I floated down to the small, old Wizard- he'd been able to make out my thread in the Lich tapestry-- _my_ thread--

I reached out to touch him but caught myself before the damage was done.

 

"If I di'nna know better," the elderly Wizard said, undeterred by my close proximity as he raised his hand and I raised mine, close to his but still not touching ( **NEVER TOUCH** ). "I'd say ye still had a soul, me dear."

I watched as tears rose in his eyes- (Why?)- brown eyes, except for the left which was flooded with a cataract. 

 

_I like you, Wizard._

  
But I knew he wouldn't hear it. He turned and ambled away down the dark corridor, sniffling.

  
_Idiot,_ The Others quipped. _No one but the Lich can hear you._

  
**DO NOT ASSOCIATE WITH WIZARDS. ONLY ASSOCIATE WHEN NECESSARY.** The Litch screeched, but the old Wizard was trailing small puffs of Steam behind him which cancelled out the hive-mind's power.

Old Wizard looked over his shoulder and saw me following. I was gently breathing in the scattered Steam. It was almost like a gift.

"Right then," Old Wizard sighed. "Guess dere ain't no harm in givin' it to ye..."

He motioned for me to continue with him down the hall.

 

More fluttering in the back of my mind.

Was this an emotion? A memory? (Of _what?_ )

 

I don't know how long we moved together (time is tricky for Us), but eventually Old Wizard stopped outside a metal door and went inside.

There was a small bed, a large window, desk with books and papers.

I went to enter-- and felt a sudden, sharp pain- burning, striking, stabbing- so shocking and unexpected--

I heard a noise- a terrible but brief screech- and realized it had come from me.

  
I backed away from the door to the Wizard room, hunching my shoulders against the pain, astounded that I had made a vocal sound. 

I didn't know I could do that.

  
"Dammit! I'm sorry, so sorry-," the old one hurried out. "I forgot the door is made of iron."

He lingered in the doorway, perhaps waiting for my reaction.

 

I remained huddled against the corner where the wall met the ceiling.

The rage was exhilarating.

For a moment, I wanted to place my hands around his throat, strangle the Steam from his chest.

 

"I'm so sorry," he said again, stepping from the doorway with a book in hand. "I just- well, I thought I'd give ye somethin'. Figure it can't hurt."   

Carefully the Wizard held out the book to me.

Title: "Man's Search for Meaning" Viktor Frankl.

 

  
Timidly, I reached out a hand.

_Book..._

Book was familiar.

 

 

_"Albus gives you far too many books!"_

_  
"Albbie, thank you! I love it!"_

_  
"Ariana, girls who hide behind books won't ever marry..."_

 

 

I went to ( **NEVER TOUCH** ) touch the book, feel its texture, its weight-

  
I grazed it with one finger, and the cover page's color faded, the book's pages yellowing, curling with age. As the paper began to crumble apart, I jerked my hand back.

  
Man's Search for Meaning continued to rot until it turned to ashes that fell between the Old Wizard's fingers.  

   
I heard myself howl, screech in agony.

Then I fled.

I flew further than I'd ever ventured before.

Further and further until I could blend myself into the black of night.

 

Why-- _why_ could I feel and perceive _some_ things but not others? 

There was too much I could not understand- and more painfully- _did_ understand. 

 

_Ariana._

Had that been me?

 _Ariana_ who loved books.

Who had skin.

 

_Ariana._

 

 **WE HAVE BEEN CALLED,** the Lich suddenly cut in. **WE HAVE BEEN CALLED TO HOGWARTS. PRISONER ESCAPE. PRISONER ESCAPE. PRISONER ESCAPE. FIRST TO LOCATE PRISONER MAY FEAST.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thanks for reading! Just a couple quick explanations:
> 
> \----"Sahir" is Arabic for "wizard" or "sorcerer". 
> 
> \----"the Lich" as I use it in this story is meant to represent a hive mind for the dementors. 
> 
> \----"The Others" as I use it in this story are the individual thoughts communicated between dementors.
> 
> \----"Steam" as I use in this story refers to the happy feelings/memories that dementors feed off of. 
> 
> \----"Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl is an incredible novel written by a survivor of the WWII concentration camps and how he found purpose in his life.
> 
>  
> 
> When I first thought of this story, I was just buzzing with excitement. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I- this story will take you through a lot of history from the "Harry Potter Universe", though it will weave in and out of canon. Look forward to some fun interpretations of canon and exciting new content! 
> 
> All kudos and constructive comments are so very much appreciated! More chapters to come soon =)


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